


Gripping the sand

by UnderworId



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 11:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderworId/pseuds/UnderworId
Summary: I see.





	Gripping the sand

**Author's Note:**

> Be kind, always.

##  I sense the sun, as it flickers its rays through the four florescent lights above this bare room.

Someone chatting from outside the big heavy oak door, then suddenly its gone. I sway my head as I return to my handy book. I crouch as time passes, still trying to finish what I’ve started. I felt the cold air embrace the little room, and as it stretch on the four corners of the room. Wanting me to stand and turn off the aircon. I sigh, telling my mind to leave it as it is. I heard the door opened… then closed. I drop my book down at my side as I operate my sense of touch to locate my staff. I found it lying at my feet, I worriedly stood up. My coward feet found the strength to walk forward. 

Being familiar to the measurements was the first thing I did. I stopped as my fingers reached a breathing wall. Stiff it was, but I know it hides its softness inside. I retreat my hand and manage to show confidence. The wall moved away saying 

_“Let’s start again“._

I nod as I hear a little suite case opening. I turned and found a little cottoned chair before me. I sat, putting my staff down. I spread my arms. Putting them into a precious relaxation. A sound of a lonely violin started. It was singing alone a familiar tune of the down and strayed. It echoes inside the soul. I breathe heavily as every tone enters my heart. It introduced to me a bunch of documented evidence of memories the player wants to hide. It tells novel made from the experiences it encountered. Some might be boring to those who knows nothing of sad life, of those who learned to lock away their hearts from sorrow and grief. 

Not me, I know how to look at a person without frowning. Because I understand why they are molded like it. That is not a gift but a mask they choose to cover there stained faces. I bowed my head as I let out my own cries. I want to tell the violin my life. All I want is to share the harmony of knowing there is still a chance. I started. Joining the selection of long forgotten masterpieces. My fingers dance at every key of the ivory piano. I’m bringing to life. I gave my all, my best and my life. To let my melody mix  with the other player’s aura. 

I heard a cruel stop of an angry god as the violin was shut and was violently  thrown down. I heard mad footsteps walking towards me as I wait for it’s command. 

_“Stop“_ the wall yelled pulling my arm away from where it was. 

_“What are you doing? That was not the right tune I teach you!“_ it added. 

All I replied was silence. 

I slowly stood up to the face of my companion for it to ease its erupting heart. The wall initiates a fight pushing me away from its path. I lost my balance and fall confused on the ground. 

I mention no words or protest. 

Though I know why it acts this way. I understand and I stand to protect it. Because I know exactly how it feels. Not alone, not unique, both ordinary as it seems but no… I know what it tries to heal and hide from the world. 

By now the wall became more furious demanding me of a perfect explanation. I gave none, for I know I gave my all. Then it end, the storm had passed. I heard the wall walked away talking 

_ “You just don’t understand. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. I'd better just leave." _

Next was the loud slamming of the door. I shivered, raised my head to the last essence of its path and murmur 

_ “Friend, friend I'm blind“  _

I spread my hands to reach for my staff. But my heart was whispering and as tears starts to fall. 

I questioned _‘did it understand?' _

**Author's Note:**

> Collections of short stories written way back in 2008.
> 
> Thanks for spending time with me.


End file.
